Kazuki - My Fandom's Girly Boy is Pretti


Don't Lick the Eyecandy

So many bishounen, so little time -_- So start licking! NOW!

Previous Entry Share Next Entry
[Fic] Neutral Territory (Kamio x Momo)
Hisashi - Know What They Say About Guys
Title: Neutral Territory
Fandom: PoT
Part: 1/4
Rating: PG13
Summary: Kamio and Momoshiro meet up outside of the street courts. *gah*. Bad summary...can't think. Parents left to go to New York and was woken up at five am this morning to wake up my brothers for school, since they seem to be able sleep through most alarm clocks -_-. I'll just leave it at that...
This is a follow up fic to Things Left Unsaid, which is here if anyone needs to refresh their memory.

Need to update my site and change layout...lazy...Maybe my LJ should just be my site. Lol. All of my fics are in the memories thing anyway.

Neutral Territory
Follow up to ‘Things Left Unsaid’


The fast food restaurant that Ann had recommended was absolutely packed with people. Kamio hesitated by the entrance, before pushing through the crowd towards the counter. He took his place at the end of one line, decided on a double cheeseburger meal, then put his headphones on and turned his MP3 player’s volume up full blast.

The pleasantly fluid voice of Kagrra’s vocalist drowned out the sound of the chattering people around him. School had let out for the day, so there were many students from various nearby schools who had dropped by for an afternoon snack. Everyone seemed to have come in with someone else, which made Kamio feel conspicuously alone, something that had never happened to him before: he was used to having Shinji with him, but he’d gone to the street tennis courts with Ann-chan.

“Match with Echizen,” The soft spoken Fudoumine player had explained as he’d walked off with the girl, leaving Kamio staring after them. Sure, he could have just forgotten about eating and gone along, but he hadn’t gotten any breakfast that morning. His mother had gone away on a business trip to Hong Kong, so there was no one to cook at home, which meant that there’d been no breakfast. He also had doubts about what sort of dinner his father would be able to conjure up. It'd probably be smart to load up now.

It took a while for him to finally get served. The giggling girl in front of him must have changed her order at least five times. About five seconds after she'd placed her order, she'd ask one of her friends for their opinion and then change it. Once he actually got his food, he grabbed his tray and waded through the dense mass of bodies around him, making liberal use of his elbows whenever someone refused to budge.

After five minutes of looking, he still couldn’t find an empty spot. His arms were beginning to hurt from the strain of having to keep them steady so that his drink wouldn’t spill. Lenny’s was a good sized restaurant, but everywhere he looked, tables were already taken.

There were a bunch of girls wearing Fudoumine uniforms towards the corner booth. They were friends of Ann, and he knew them, but he didn’t think he’d be comfortable hanging around a gaggle of females. Being alone with girls was unpleasant. The last time he’d ended up being groped by a particularly forward fan girl that had wanted to be introduced to Captain Tachibana. He didn’t really like many of them. They were nice to look at, soft and warm to touch, they smelled good too, but trying to have an intelligent conversation with most of them was like talking to a bunch of mewling kittens constantly pawing at you and begging for your attention.

Kamio spun around on his heels and headed the other way before they caught sight of him. He lowered his head, allowing his hair to fall over his face, just dreading the cries of ‘Kamio-kuuuuuuuun!’ that would have meant that he’d been discovered. He should have just asked for take out. It wasn’t too late. He could still go up to the counter and ask for a bag…

When he was about to do just that, he caught sight of a table by a secluded corner of the room, that was occupied only by a familiar, spiky haired boy. There was an empty seat right across Momoshiro Takeshi and Kamio watched, transfixed as the boy’s jaw moved rhythmically up and down, the chewed up bits of bread and meat rolling around in his mouth.

It was disgusting. Kamio had never seen anyone eat like that. There was his cousin, but the kid was five years old! Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d already taken several steps towards the Seigaku tennis player.

It had been at least two weeks since he’d last seen him. Kamio hadn’t dropped by the street courts since his discussion with Shinji a while back. He’d made excuses like ‘I have homework to do’ or ‘I’m too tired’, or ‘My mom wants me to do some stuff for her’, but even if that had fooled the others, Kamio knew himself well enough to realize that he’d just wanted to avoid Momoshiro.

Not that he had any reason to.

/It’s ridiculous,/ he told himself. Kamio’s grip around his tray tightened as he took a deep breath to fortify himself. /I love being at the street courts and I can eat here if I want! I paid for the right to eat here when I paid for this cheeseburger! Why should I have to give those things up just because I know that guy will be there? Why am I even avoiding him? I should really forget about that conversation with Shinji. It only happened because what Ann-chan said to me confused me and started me thinking stupid things…/

Yes. Girls had a way of making men think crazy. For others it might be because of those lumps of flesh hanging off their chest, their pretty, pale faces and shapely little bodies, but Kamio just had a naturally soft spot for them. He didn’t like them, but they were delicate and needed to be taken care of, even the head strong Ann-chan. It was nice to be needed. Even Shinji needed some watching over sometimes. There’d been a couple of occasions when his friend had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he’d just stepped right out onto the road and very nearly gotten run over by a car. Kamio hated to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t been around then to grab the guy by the back of his shirt and stop him.

He didn’t like Takeshi Momoshiro. He was the exact opposite of the kind of people that he got along with. Usually Kamio got on best with mild mannered, collected people who offset his lack of patience and hotheadedness. Momoshiro was too much like him. Putting the two of them together would be like throwing a cat and a dog into a barrel and slamming a lid over it to see what would happen.

He could barely tolerate the guy’s existence. Barely tolerating someone's existence was not a sign of some sort of deep, and undying love. The only reason that the spiky haired tennis player popped up in his mind at the most inconvenient times was because he thought of him as his on court competition, and he’d always been focused on his tennis, which meant that his mind was on tennis almost 24/7. Momoshiro was always inextricably linked to that sport in his mind, and that would explain why he thought about him so much!

Kamio nodded, satisfied by this justification.

/So turn around and walk out of this place right now! What are you going up to him for? You. Don’t. Like. Him./

/I’m hungry…/

/Take your food with you to the courts!/

/I need a bag to carry the food in and The line is long./

Kamio shook his head, hoping that this would quiet the warring factions of his mind. This was ridiculous. He was getting to the point where he had to wage an epic inner battle with himself over whether or not he wanted to share a table with someone.

There was nowhere else to sit, and the only other person that he knew in there besides those girls was Takeshi Momoshiro. Simple as that. The logical thing for him to do was to ask if he could take the empty seat. He didn’t even have to talk to him. Just eat really fast, then go.

Did he want to try his luck with those girls?

With renewed determination, Kamio set his shoulders and headed towards Momoshiro. Anything was better than that.

He slammed his tray down on the table across the spiky haired boy, making him jump slightly in his seat. Soda sloshed over the rim of his cup and splashed onto his fries. Kamio busied himself with retrieving his non-soggy food.

The Seigaku tennis player broke out into a huge, friendly smile when he saw him. That surprised Kamio. He hadn’t expected such a warm welcome. In fact, he’d been anticipating some sort of minor brawl, and had already decided that he’d slam the tray that he was holding against the Seigaku tennis player’s head if the worst case scenario that he’d thought up played out.

Had Momoshiro forgotten all about their little spats in the past? It was possible. Like good natured dogs could forgive a person who’d kicked them just the day before, so could an innately empty headed young tennis player like Momoshiro Takeshi.

“It’s you!” he continued cheerfully, seemingly unaware of Kamio’s decided lack of enthusiasm in participating in a friendly conversation. “Haven’t seen you around in a while!”

“Hmph.” Kamio grunted, dropping down onto the bright orange plastic seat across Momoshiro.

“Where’ve you been?”


“Where’s Ann-chan?”

Kamio bristled. He shot Momoshiro a look that could have withered a man’s testicles, before replacing his headphones and putting on his music on as loud as it would go.


Kamio was such a strange guy…

First he invited himself over to his table, now he was ignoring him. When someone sat himself down before him, Momoshiro expected a little bit of conversation at the very least. He wanted to be entertained, damn it! It was obvious that he wasn’t going to get that from the Fudoumine player, though.

He could hear the tinny sound of music blaring from the brown haired boy’s earphones. The drum line and the wailing, frenetic guitar riffs sounded familiar to him. Kamio must have had it on really loud if he could hear it from all the way across the table so clearly.

“What song is that?”

No answer. Kamio chomped away on his burger as though he hadn’t seen any food in the past week. There was a thin trail of ketchup along the side of his hand that Momoshiro tried to bring to his attention, but of course, he didn’t hear him.

“I played against your team mate about a week ago. The one that you can never understand when he talks…”

The volume of the music increased. “…/shiroi koromo wa shinku ni somari kono inochi mo mata hakanaku chiru/…”

Momoshiro rolled his eyes. Nothing. He was getting bored. Normally, he wouldn’t have tried so hard to make conversation with this guy because he found Kamio so unagreeable, but he was the only one there, and by nature he was a sociable person who was most comfortable when he was in the company of others. Kamio was making it very difficult for him to be settle down.

His half eaten meal was forgotten. He couldn’t concentrate on it with the uncooperative Kamio sitting across him. It was distracting, and he’d already taken it upon himself to break the guy’s silence by the time he finished eating. He just wanted to piss him off. He didn’t really expect an intense conversation, or particularly want one.

With this in mind, Momoshiro leaned across the table and yanked the headphones off his grudging companion. “Didn’t your mother teach you never to listen to your music while you’re eating? It’s rude!”

The Fudoumine player sent a murderous glare his way, one that could have rivaled Captain Tezuka’s own. “So now you’re insulting my mother?” He asked in a low growl. He pressed the stop button on the MP3 player and focused his attention on Momoshiro.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You just said that she doesn’t teach her kids any manners!”

“No I didn’t.”

“/Yes you did, bastard!/” Kamio’s argumentative tone had attracted the attention of the people around him. Some were already inching away from the two of them.

Bad idea, Momoshiro realized. He rested the headphones on the table, but Kamio made no move to retrieve it. The two of them just sat there glaring at each other. Kamio picked up his player and began stashing it away in his back pack.

“Are you going already?”

“No.” Kamio decided on the spur of the moment. He wasn’t about to be run out of this place just because of Momoshiro Takeshi. He was going to stay here and eat just to spite him, much like Momoshiro had insisted on babbling and babbling on just to annoy him. He hadn't been able to hear him over the music, but he'd been able to see the guy's mouth moving from out of the corner of his mouth. That showed how stupid he was. Why would you insist on talking to a person who obviously didn't want to be involved in a conversation?

“Are you going to the street courts after you eat?”


“You haven’t been there in a long time.”

“/Will you stop bothering me!?/” Kamio snapped. His fingers dug into the soft bun of his burger as he stuffed the food savagely into his mouth and begun to chew.

Momoshiro shrugged, a small smirk curving his mouth upwards. “You’re avoiding the place so you won’t have to play me again, aren’t yah? Hah.” He snickered into his cup of soda.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He reared out of his seat as bits of chewed up bread and meat flew out of Kamio’s mouth and towards Momoshiro. The Seigaku tennis player batted it away, his face screwed up in an expression of disgust. “I’m not avoiding you! Why should /I/ avoid /you/?” In a way he had been, but not for the reasons that Momoshiro thought.

The Seigaku tennis player’s face was animated in a way that was familiar to Kamio. He got that look whenever he was immersed in a heated conversation with that Echizen that he was always hanging out with, or himself for that matter.

“Come to the courts tomorrow then? Let’s play a game!”

“Can’t.” Kamio answered without the slightest hesitation. He tried to appear as immersed in eating as possible. He didn’t want to have to deal with this guy any more than he had to. It felt…awkward. His conversation with Ann-chan and Shinji had ruined everything for him.

He didn’t know why he was even sitting here with the guy. Maybe he just enjoyed torturing himself. Maybe he just felt like being around him for a little while because he hadn’t seen him for so long. As crazy as it may seem to him, he’d missed the little verbal spats with the spiky haired boy.

Once or twice he’d even tried to initiate arguments with Shinji, just for a bit of fun, but his best friend always just stared at him and then said ‘I’m not Momoshiro, you know’ before falling silent once more.

Yeah. Shinji wasn’t Momoshiro. No one he knew was like the guy.

“Come on.”



Did he ever give up? Kamio scowled. “Shut up before I throw my tray at your face.” He advised him. He was serious about it too. He’d had enough. Why was Momoshiro bothering him so much for a game anyway? It wasn’t as though there wasn’t anyone else to play with at the courts. There were hordes of people there everyday!

/Maybe he misses you?/

Kamio couldn’t help it. He snickered at the thought. Momoshiro took this as a sign of weakening. “So you’re coming to the courts tomorrow then?”

“No! I already said no, okay? I’ve got things to do! Lots of projects!”

“What projects?”

“I need to write something about something,” Kamio answered finally. He'd almost forgotten about that until he'd mentioned having projects to do. That was going to be a pain. A ten page research paper about something that interested him for English class. None of his hobbies warranted a ten page, double spaced report /in English/, no less.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.” Kamio admitted.

“Well. That’s going to make it harder on you.”

“/Don’t patronize me/!”

This was ridiculous. Every single innocent comment of his was interpreted in completely the wrong way. Did Kamio go out of his way to imagine non existent insults, just so that he could start a fight? It seemed that way to Momoshiro, and that would have pissed him off if he wasn’t so amused by it. Sure, it wasn’t as though he went out of his way to avoid confrontations with Kamio himself, but it wasn’t as though he /hated/ him. Kamio always started it. /Always/. He would say hi, try to be civil, then the Fudoumine player would make some remark that was meant to set off an argument.

Momoshiro didn't get him. "So what's this paper of yours supposed to be about then?"

"Something that I'm interested in..."

"Tennis." Momoshiro concluded, nodding sagely. That was the logical topic for a tennis player to write about.

Kamio opened his mouth, about to tell him how stupid he thought this idea was, then abruptly shut it again. Damn. Why did the guy have to choose this particular moment to start making sense? He couldn't say anything to that so he just scowled, and stuffed some more food into his mouth.

"You could write about the history of tennis, tennis in Japan. Things like that," Momoshiro added, his voice gaining strength as he went on with his suggestions. "In fact, I have a book about the history of tennis! Why don't you meet me here tomorrow and I'll give it to you?"

The Fudoumine player shrugged non commitally. "I might be."

On his way home later on, Kamio suddenly turned around and smashed his forehead against a nearby streetlamp, taking the schoolgirls walking beside him completely by surprise. "I should have said no," He growled, as the girls scampered away with little squeals of fright. "I should have said no."

  • 1
[1] XDDD

[2] You keep switching between 'Momoshiro Takeshi' and 'Takeshi Momoshiro'.

[3] [because he found Kamio so unagreeable] - should be 'disagreeable'.

[4] The lurid descriptions of food within/coming out of Momo and Kamio's mouths was... lurid. But oh so amusing.

[5] Want more Shinji!

[6] XDDD

I knew there was a word for it -_- but my mind blanked out. Thanks for the 'disagreeable' thing. And I couldn't decide which was Momo's last name and which was his first when I started. Haven't written PoT in too long.

And I couldn't decide which was Momo's last name and which was his first when I started.


Awwww. Found this in your memories, checking to see if you'd written more fics. Poor Kamio is so lost. XD I have to admit, I would probably be slightly confused in his shoes as well.

  • 1

Log in

No account? Create an account